


Trying

by HarmoniaChimera



Series: The Machine [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, First Time, Flashbacks, Ghoul Sex, Jealousy, Multi, POV Alternating, Robot Sex, Size Difference, Sorry Not Sorry, Synth Sex, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 00:32:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17032875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmoniaChimera/pseuds/HarmoniaChimera
Summary: Aina has been with Hancock for months now, and she's happy, but she still can't stop thinking about Nate... and feeling like she's betraying her boyfriend by thinking about her late husband. And then she overhears Hancock second-guessing himself and whether he deserves to be with a woman like her, and she'd do anything to change his mind. Somehow, one thing leads to another, and ofcoursehe's high, and she finds herself smack-dab between him and Nick. Can a Gen 2.5 synth even--?





	Trying

**Author's Note:**

> There were some people recently, who seemed to be very interested in how sex with Nick would actually work from the technical point of view… So consider this a glimpse.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** translated from Polish, so… expect odd: phrasing, use of prepositions, grammar?? + also, there’s, like, a conditional inside a flashback inside a flashback in there, and I had no idea what tense I was using, please forgive me.

_I’m a synth. A synthetic man. All the parts, minus a few red blood cells._

 

She didn’t go to Finland with Nate after all. They’ll never know what the country her mother came from looks like. She’ll never see the harsh, Finnish winters.

She’ll never see Nate again.

“Aina?” Hancock’s voice pulled her away from her thoughts. Nick was standing father behind him, as if waiting for something; these two had something in the works—she could feel it in her bones. Dogmeat nudged her hand gently, expecting some love. At least she still had them. At least she wasn’t completely alone.

“Yes?” Hancock must’ve noticed she wasn’t fully there, because he crouched before her, close, and brushed her hair from her cheeks. He smiled a little bit, like he usually did, with that half-grimace that barely showed on his face. His black eyes slid across her features, somewhat concernedly, somewhat interrogatively.

“There’s an old, ruined factory nearby,” he said. “Nick and I are gonna go check it out, see if maybe we find something useful. What do you say? Will you stay here with the mutt?”

She scoffed. “Don’t call him a mutt.”

“Alright. Will you stay here with the furball?” She threw him an irritated look even though she knew it’d only make him want to bother her more. “The walking mountain of hair? Hitchhiker’s shuttle for fleas?” It didn’t seem like he had any particular trouble coming up with new nicknames, almost like he prepared them in advance in his spare time; therefore, there was a real danger he could go on till tomorrow. “The only somewhat knee-tall four-legged creature in all of the Commonwealth that doesn’t seem to want to jump to our throats?”

“Okay, go! Get out of my face.” She slapped his arm, stifling a laugh. He brushed his rough lips across her forehead, and along with Nick they walked off northeast. She couldn’t take her eyes off of his stupid red coat being jerked around by the rising evening wind. Hancock turned around to her before they disappeared behind a hill, so she smiled at him; he didn’t get to see how her face fell right back into its previous expression. She felt like she’d been trampled by a whole brahmin herd, and not in the same way Hancock did most mornings; more like the herd danced around on her and left behind only what a brahmin herd usually left behind: one huge, steaming sea of shit.

Recently, she’d been thinking too much about Nate and Shaun. She shouldn’t let herself do that. She should just fix her gaze on the closest goal until it’s reached. But… she couldn’t do it even if she tried. She wouldn’t be able to just stop living in the past. To forget about her kidnapped son and focus on something else. No. That wouldn’t work.

Ten years had passed since Nate’s death. Shaun was going to be a boy now. What if she succeeds? What if she really does meet him face to face? What will she tell him? Will he believe her to be his mother or will he think her mad? What had Kellogg and the Institute planted in his little head over all that time? Will she be able to convince him in spite of their brainwashing?

She didn’t even notice as she succumbed to a light sleep, which she awoke from only when she heard Hancock’s pained moan. She instantly opened her eyes, but he wasn’t injured. He just lay half-backed up against a rock of some sort, his head thrown back, hand on face.

“I told you not to take that shit,” Nick said, poking a stick around in the fire.

“But Ultrajet, man…” Hancock raised himself only to instantly fall right back down. “Do you have any idea how rare it is?”

“And now you know why.”

Hancock waved his hand at him, albeit somewhat weakly.

“Seriously, you’re in the state that you’re in, and you don’t regret your stupidity?”

“It’s a goddamn golden Grail, Nick, that… Yeah. What was it…? Not Jet, but…”

“Ultrajet.”

Hancock snapped his fingers. “Exactly.”

“Though from where I’m sitting, it looks more like an Ultradisaster.”

“Go fuck yourself, Valentine.”

“As always at your service.”

Aina, still not fully awake, barely understood what was going on, but she smiled to herself at their banter. The men were silent for a longer while, or maybe she just fell back asleep and didn’t register it until Hancock muttered again, “Besides, you know very well that it won’t last very long for me,” and then he added in a low voice, “At least I hope so.”

“Why, what’s going on? You not feeling okay?” Nick stated dryly. “What am I asking; it can’t get any worse.”

“Cut it out already,” Hancock snapped, suddenly upset. “You think I need you to remind me of that?”

“No, come on, Hancock. Just don’t go off the rails…”

“Seriously, I feel like I’m living on borrowed time,” Hancock went on, although he could barely be heard through his hands completely covering his face. “What a goddamn joke of fate is it that so many people died in Goodneighbor shot by Vic’s people, and I was the one who miraculously survived?”

“And if you hadn’t survived, you think someone else would put a stop to it like you did?” Nick immediately retorted, almost like he had prepared for this very occasion. “And even if, then when? How many more people would lose their lives? I was in Goodneighbor in Vic’s time and in yours. And trust me, one can see the difference right from the door.”

“I always wanted to make a difference somewhere…” Hancock’s voice was almost broken by a sob.

“And you did. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Then why couldn’t I just stay there? Sit down on my ass in peace?”

“Because you weren’t in peace?” Nick rolled his eyes almost constantly at this point. “And besides, you know, a certain woman came around, slaughtered a few dozen people for you, protected your interests, and you fell for her, what will you do. I’m not surprised you went with her; after all, I dropped everything, too, to loiter around the Commonwealth with you two. Besides, if you weren’t at her side back then, I don’t know if I’d agree so easily.”

“Seriously? What do I have to do with it?”

“I trust your judgement, you Ultrajet disaster.” With a legit poker face, Nick took off Hancock’s hat, forcing him to get up to take it back. “However high you got, you never gave me a reason to stop.”

“Oh, to hell with it all.” Hancock, clearly unconvinced, put on his hat, took it off, laid it on his sleeping bag and fixed his gaze on the flames. “What did I do to deserve your friendship?”

Nick ostentatiously ran fingers down his chin. “Give me a second… Something’s coming back to me…” Nick tormented Hancock like that for a while, until he pretended to suddenly see clear. “There was a situation in Diamond City once… When that pimp and those two guys tried to weld me to somebody’s house, remember? The one who didn’t like that my investigation involved one of his… charges, and he pulled out the gas torch? Whom you gave your weekly supply of chems to, so that he, as you put it, ‘could fuck off of me and go back to selling his an others’ asses somewhere else’.” Nick waved with his skeletal hand. “And then you helped me get that molten skin-bag off, so that I could have at least this left? Well then, this. The way you called me a ‘trouble-making Assaultron with no balls’ afterwards was also quite charming.”

Hancock scoffed. “I’m telling you, you should meet Kl-E-0.” He must’ve sobered up a little ‘cause he looked at himself, then at the fire, and finally at Aina. He didn’t seem to notice, over the flames, that she was staring right back at him. “And what did I do to deserve _her_?” he muttered pitifully. “’Cause I sure as hell don’t.”

“Nope.” Nick put his hand on his shoulder. Hancock threw him a look that seemed to say, ‘what kind of a friend are you?’, but then Nick continued, “But however drugged or hopeless you’d get, you’re still better than I could ever be.”

“What are you even…”

“Have you looked at me recently?”

Hancock squinted terribly, trying to focus his gaze on him, but after a moment, he gave up. “Aina likes you.”

“And I like her; still, nothing could ever come out of that.” Nick poked around in the fire again, but his face looked like he couldn’t believe he was saying this to Hancock. Aina understood him perfectly. She couldn’t believe it either. “If she was with me, she’d have even more problems than now. Take the Brotherhood of Steel. They don’t like ghouls, but they can’t do much about that. But with their conviction that synths are abominations? They wouldn’t even talk to her.”

“Their bigotry is precisely the reason we don’t visit them anymore.” Hancock shrugged. He appeared to be sobering up with every word.

Nick waved his hand. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Those memories of Nick’s still bug me. I wouldn’t be able to fully commit when every time I even think of a relationship, I remember Jenny.”

“Yeah, I feel ya,” Hancock replied, nodding slowly. Nick made a sound placing somewhere between an amused snort and a dismissive scoff.

“And who do you remember? Irma, Heil, Gina, Diana, Ava…?” He went on for a few more names, but gave up when there was no reply. There was a moment of silence.

“Nothing’s stopping you from indulging a little, too,” Hancock said.

“You’re crazy.”

“What? If you have a need…” Suddenly something popped into Hancock’s junkie head. “Unless…” He gasped ostentatiously. “Nick, I get that you’re a bit roughed up, but I didn’t expect it to be that bad… Man, I’m so sorry to--”

“Go fuck yourself, Hancock. All my parts are in place. Diagnostically, at least.”

“What’s the problem, then?  _Mi casa es su casa._ ”

“That shouldn’t apply to women.” Nick shook his head with resignation.

“Uh-huh, you’re absolutely right. Aina!”

The woman jerked up, as if suddenly woken. “What? I’m not sleeping. Not sleeping. What's wrong? When did you guys get back?”

“Wouldn’t you like to see what Nick is hiding under that trench coat of his?” Hancock said with a suggestive smirk. Aina automatically scanned Nick up and down, and… Oh, goddammit. It had happened once before. She'd started wondering how far those defects in his skin went on, and before she knew it, she'd unwittingly imagined how it would feel to undress him… And then she'd slapped herself in the face and went for a swim in an ice-cold lake. And now she realized Nick could, without much trouble…

“What?!” she threw in Hancock’s face again, hoping he didn’t notice her pause.

“Nick’s in a bad mood tonight,” he said, as if he wasn’t in one just a moment ago.

“Well, then, that makes two of us,” she replied grumpily.

“But I thought we could make him happier.” The cheeky smirk didn’t leave his face even for a second. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re completely baked.”

“Of course I am.” Hancock got up just to squat next to her again. “But I’m also serious.” He brushed her hair away from her face, reached to the back of her neck, and then moved his rough hand to her jaw… He squeezed, forcing her to open her mouth. She loved it when he did that. She gave in, letting her tongue out just half an inch, and Hancock kissed her deeply. Pulling back, he whispered straight into her mouth: “Come on, let us in…” before running his tongue across her lip. It tickled a little and she bit it lightly, moving her eyes to Nick. He was still sitting in his spot, almost motionless, watching them with some strange mixture of longing and excitement in his mechanical yellow eyes. Aina smiled at him, but then she caught herself wondering if two heads in brahmins are a good thing… She looked back at Hancock.

“You’re insane,” she said disapprovingly, or at least she hoped so. “Why am I even with you?”

That effectively wiped the smile off of his face, and Aina realized, too late, what those words would do to his brain rattled by drugs and insecurity.

“You deserve something better,” he agreed, with his hands still on her jaw, like he couldn’t tear away from her even if he wanted to.

“Hancock…” she called in a pained whisper, putting her hand on his and rubbing his rough, thin skin. She could feel his tense tendons under her fingers, his veins and the associated pulsing of the deeper-laying arteries. He stared at that hand like he couldn’t believe his own eyes. “Please, stop thinking that.”

His face seemed to soften. Aina, looking up at him, could see he was giving in to her gaze. “You’re so lovely…” he only whispered, unconsciously letting his hand down and running a finger down her neck, lower, until a pleasant shiver ran down her spine, and even lower. He slipped it between her collar bones and gently rubbed the wedding bands she wore on a chain in memory of Nate. “And so faithful.” Aina’s heart stopped when she noticed Hancock’s jaw clenching.

Now she understood. It wasn’t a matter of chems or pretending. Hancock really was confident and laid-back, and always had been, just like she met him. It was all about her. He fell in love with  _her_. The one who still wore her dead husband’s ring around her neck. Who still couldn’t stop thinking about him. Who still lived in the past, in her former house, missed her long-lost son, and tried to find him to have just a fraction of Nate back. And Hancock still stayed at her side, even though he had to watch it every day, even though it was killing him. That was what he’d meant when he’d told Nick ‘I feel ya’. Why hadn’t he let her see anything before? Why hadn’t he talked to her about it? Did he not want to bother her in this situation and tried to wait until it was all over? Was he afraid of her reaction? Aina painfully realized she had never told him she loved him before… and she wasn’t entirely sure if she could. _Now_ she understood.

All this while Hancock looked at her, observing the little changes on her face, and could feel his muscles slowly relax. Frustration was replaced by fear. He shouldn’t have told her that. It was still too early. Besides, she wouldn’t be able to focus on it anyway, not until she found Shaun and put an end to it all. He only wished for it to end soon, so that they could be together without looking back. That would be best. But what if Aina would think he was trying to take away her freedom, trying to decline her finding her son? He’d never dare to do that. He cared about her happiness.  _And_ he cared about his head. And his balls. And possibly anything else she’d see fit to cut off.

“I’m sorry,” he added, although he could feel it sounded somewhat wrong, and repeated, “You deserve more.”

“And that’s why you’re trying to give me  _more_  people?” She pointed her chin at Nick who was still sitting on his spot, though Hancock sincerely couldn’t understand why.

“Yes,” he replied assuredly. “You deserve someone rational.” He undid her sleeping bag, smiling roguishly again. Aina’s face immediately lit up and Hancock felt a small wave of calm. They’d talk about it some other time. “You know, someone who basically has a calculator for a brain.” Nick rolled his eyes ostentatiously, but Hancock reached to Aina’s neck with his mouth and pretended not to notice.

Aina tensed up for just a second, her eyes stuck on Nick who watched them without a hint of emotion on his face; but Hancock knew very well what his partner liked, and she finally edged her head back, letting out a small sigh. He loved it when she surrendered to him like that, he loved the feeling when her smooth skin gave way under his fingers, when her nails dug into his shoulders. He loved  _her_.

Her breathing seemed to become heavier and faster. Hancock looked behind and with the very corner of his eye he saw that Nick, though still sitting in the same spot as before, let his hand fall to his pants and was now zealously massaging himself through the fabric, though his synthetic face showed no hint of lust at all. Aina stared at him hypnotized. Hancock smiled to himself and returned to kissing her neck, looking for a way to get his hand under her shirt. She didn’t protest at all, still focused on Nick who finally started toward them, taking a wide berth around the fire and still touching himself with his left hand. Aina began breathing even quicker, seeing him coming. For a while, for literally a split second, some remnants of the bad Ultrajet trip spoke up, and Hancock felt a sting of jealousy; it must’ve showed in his caress, or maybe she knew from the way he clenched his hand on her side, because Aina examined him carefully, and then in a whisper, so that Nick wouldn’t hear, she said:

“Hancock, _you_ are my favorite half-corpse…” and immediately reached for his zipper.

 

_When he entered, as quietly as he could so he wouldn't wake her, to her quarters in the Castle, he was surprised to see Aina wide awake and changing into her traveling gear. She immediately covered herself at the first sound of the door being opened, but when she saw it was him, she let her arms down, giving up on getting dressed altogether. For an idiotically long while Hancock couldn’t take his eyes off of her breasts, but finally closed the door and turned the key. He started towards Aina: her breath quickened, but she didn’t find it necessary to cover herself, which only turned him on even more._

_“We should get underway,” he mumbled, and she only nodded and bit her lip, as if she was only waiting for him to touch her. Hancock hurried to comply with her silent request. When she felt his hand on her bare waist, she let out a quiet sigh, and when it took him one move to turn her around and press her back to him, she instinctively arched her body, boldly exposing her neck to him. He obligingly put his mouth on it, running his tongue down the contours of her body, until Aina could scarcely keep her voice back. “Hmm?” he murmured, but she didn’t reply. Smiling, he gently bit on her shoulder and squeezed her waist so hard she squealed with something dangerously close to pain and immediately pressed her hand to her lips. He pulled it away and placed a kiss in its stead._

_“Let them know,” he whispered, reaching lower and into her tight pants. She moaned, but since he wrapped his arm around her waist, virtually rendering her immobile, she couldn’t try to muffle herself again. He slipped two fingers inside and moved faster, watching his caresses bring her to the edge of insanity. She clenched her fingers on his wrist, almost scratching him to the point of drawing blood, as if she wanted him to give her a minute to catch her breath, but Hancock found his inner sadist and kept her in place by force; only when her moans grew distinctly longer, louder, and eventually turned into a prolonged cry, Aina herself folding in half as her legs gave in, and Hancock felt her warm wetness all over his hand, only then did he let her take a breather._

_He threw her on the bed. She lay there, powerless, her chest heaving; those goddamn wedding bands hit the sheets next to her head. Hancock belatedly realized Aina could still not be ready, just like she hadn’t been until now. On the other hand, if that were the case, she’d have probably put on her armor by now and they’d have gone… wherever Garvey would have sent them to this time. She wouldn’t have been standing there half-naked, just waiting for him to put his hands on her._

_He took off her pants, taking advantage of the fact that she was still too weak to resist him even if she wanted to. Her thighs glistened with wetness. Before she could protest, Hancock fell to his knees and put his mouth to her lips and skin, savoring her salty taste. Aina gave in to him with no sound other than a_ _quiet moan, unable to offer anything else; after a while, she raised to her elbows and looked him in the eye as he used his tongue to find her sweetest spots. He couldn’t feed his eyes enough: everything, from her thighs splayed across his shoulders, through the shapely hips, the belly now folded in half, her breasts, slim arms, and even slimmer neck—all that put together only heightened his excitement. There was no way he'd be able to keep it up much longer, but then Aina knocked the tricorn hat off of his head, the way she was prone to, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him onto the bed. Her fingers fumbled as she tried to unbutton his shirt and untie his scarf almost at the same time._

_Hancock didn’t wait for her to figure it out. He shrugged of his coat, undid his pants, put her leg on his shoulder, and, kissing her lips mercilessly, thrust into her as deep as he could reach. He didn’t expect it—not with her history of a happy marriage and childbirth—but she was so tight that for a split second he felt a wave of terror, sincerely certain he’d lose another body part to the ghoulish weakness of flesh. He leaned heavily on one elbow, shutting his eyes on the tears gathered in the corners. Aina rewarded his greed with a quiet laugh which only caused her to squeeze him more. He was just about to beg her for mercy._

_“You didn’t even give me a chance to warn you…” she whispered, kissing his ear, although her fingers were tightly clenched on his shoulders. After nearly ripping his shirt apart, she gave up on trying to undress him and just looked down his chest showing from in between the dishevelled flaps. “I’m sorry,” she continued, lying back as to not tighten the muscles unnecessarily. “I can’t control it.”_

_“It didn’t hurt?” he asked, worried. Aina’s gaze seemed to dart aside for just a second. She only shrugged, running her fingers up and down his neck._

_“I’m used to it.” With her wetness still wrapped around him so tightly and firmly he could swear he was melting, he had some trouble thinking, but he didn’t miss the fact that it didn’t mean ‘no’._

_“I’m so sorry. I didn’t wanna hurt you.” He kissed her and only then felt her relaxing a little._

_“You’d have to shrink first…” she whispered as if to herself, looking briefly down, and then kissed him in his huge grin._

_“I wasn’t thinking,” he kept explaining. “You haven’t had sex in over two hundred years, what was I…”_

_“Don’t remind me,” she said half-angrily, half-playfully. “Just fuck me.”_

Before she knew it, Nick’s mechanical fingers slid in between her thighs while Hancock, completely unhelpful, gradually removed everything she was wearing. She gasped when she felt the cold metal on her skin. Nick, thankfully, didn’t consider it necessary to insert those fingers anywhere and just began to gently massage her clitoris, reaching to her ear with his mouth; there were no breath sounds when he did so and it gave her an unpleasant feeling that she was hallucinating.

She didn’t really know what to do with her hands. By now she had clenched one on Nick’s skeletal wrist while he caressed her clitoris like it was his  _sole_  purpose; and with the other, she mindlessly tugged at Hancock’s collar as he took off her underwear. Goddammit. Goddammit!

Nick suddenly grabbed her jaw, his mechanical fingers digging into her skin and pulling her up, and almost forced her to kiss him. She gave in without any resistance, grabbed onto his neck, sucked a little on his tasteless, yellow tongue. His synthetic body continued to amaze her. Now, too, she didn’t feel a single breath, let alone an excited one that she was so used to, and she couldn’t not perceive it as distancing coldness.

But then Hancock pulled her hips up until she knelt, driving her knees into the sleeping bag. She leaned heavily on Nick, clenching her fingers on his shoulders, her lips reaching to his cool, artificial mouth. She knocked off his hat, and he rewarded her with a small smile. When she looked behind, Hancock was carefully placing himself between her legs as he looked at her, at  _all_  of her, with such a lustful glint in his eyes that she instantly felt herself getting wetter for him. Something inside tensed up with impatience. Hancock, however, took his sweet goddamn time; he removed his coat, slowly undoing the leather holster and the American scarf. Aina groaned angrily and mindlessly reached toward Nick’s torn-up neck with her lips, closing them on the edges of his plates, ear, and his synthetic throat.

“Careful over there,” he murmured with that voice of his that clearly stated, ‘actually, I don’t care’. She bit him gently and to her surprise, he felt it, because he pulled away and grabbed her neck. “I told you something.”

“I’m sorry,” she tried to croak out, but it sounded only as a barely audible whisper as Nick, by accident or on purpose, squeezed her windpipe so hard she couldn’t breathe for a moment. He grabbed her jaw instead and had her look at him, and he stared at her like that for a while as she tried to remove his trench coat and keep her balance in the impossible position at the same time. And then Hancock—finally!—ready, began pushing into her, this time slowly and carefully, taught by his previous traumatic experiences. Nick’s yellow eyes traced every change on her face, from the small furrow of her brow, to her teeth clenched to stop the escaping moan; his lips opened slightly in an excited, non-existent breath.

“Oh… John… Nick…” slipped out of her mouth completely against her will, but Nick didn’t have any complaints. He took off his coat and tie with one hand, then began to undo his pants, and all the while Aina stared at his emotionless, determined face, feeling her excitement grow. He was unpredictable in his syntheticity and for some reason that really worked her up.

Hancock reached the end of her and now began to finally pull back, moving so sadistically slow she would’ve started to push her hips up to his a long time ago if it wasn’t for Nick still holding her so hard she would be risking permanent face damage.

“Oh, goddammit…” she whispered realizing she was completely at their mercy. “You sons of bitches, you. Hancock, stop playing around with me,” she threw over her shoulder, even though she couldn’t really move her head, “and you, Nick, ser…”

“Silence.” Nick mercilessly put his human-like fingers deep in her hair and forced her down onto his bare manhood. She didn’t even get a chance to look at it and it was already in her throat, her thick spit flowing in streams down the inside of her cheeks to cover his synthetic balls. Nick moved his head, she felt, as though looking up, and then, as if Hancock had signaled him to, he gave her some working room, let her move back, get some air, and run her tongue down the same indentations that marked his whole body where the polymeric plates were joined.

Hancock, however, kindly granted her request and seriously quickened his pace, fucking her suddenly at such a pace that she started to choke on Nick's manhood even without his help. She clenched her fingers on his pants, half of her wanting to tear them off the both of them so that she wouldn’t be the only one feeling the gusts of cold night air, while the other understood perfectly that at least in Nick’s case undressing him any further would make no difference; then again, she couldn’t say it would make them sexier, and also… she was quickly warming up.

“Holy shit, man,” Hancock said, apparently noticing his friend’s equipment out of the corner of his eye when Aina pulled back for a quick breath and to brush hair away from her face. Nick very responsibly wrapped it around his fist. “Not that I’m complaining or something, but I’ve seen the gen-two synths, and they don’t pack so many… inches.”

“Yeah,” Nick replied. “I noticed that, too. Seems it’s some sort of a sick joke by whoever created me in the Institute, which for obvious reasons can’t be replicated. You know, ‘let’s attach a vibrator to a synth and see what happens’. Or maybe they didn’t want me to have identity issues when they uploaded Nick’s memories to my brain. I dunno.” He looked back down to watch her take him into her mouth time after time.

Hancock didn’t reply for a while, although he kept pulling her hips to his. She could feel his rough hands clenching on her waist and gliding across her skin. And then he breathed, “That thing  _vibrates_?!”

Aina tried to laugh, but instantly choked on Nick as he pressed on the back of her head in that exact moment, and then just let go; she suddenly felt a wave of vibration in her mouth and jumped back in surprise. Hancock slid out of her, and when she glanced back at him, he was looking at Nick with one brow slightly raised in something strangely resembling awe. She shook her head at him, so he put his hand on her cheek and gently pressed to turn her around to face him. Nick didn’t wait for permission--he raised his hips to meet hers and drove himself into her deep, hard, almost violently, drawing a cry from her throat; she looked at Hancock, his black eyes and his canted nose and his thin, almost invisible lips and his cheeks marked by strips of scarred skin. Squealing, whimpering, and really trying not to scream, she held on to him, running one hand down his chest. Brisk night air around them was just about all filled with their excited breaths and the elusive, heavy scent of pheromones.

“Come, now, sweetheart,” he whispered, sliding two fingers in her mouth, driving his rough fingertips down her tongue. She gave in to him, unable to do anything substantial anyway when Nick fucked her from behind so zealously she barely kept herself on her knees or controlled her breathing. Hancock pulled her in for a kiss even though she couldn’t do much to return it, Nick’s manhood stirring her up deeper than she ever thought possible; it was like he was trying to ruin her, like he opened her more and more with each thrust.

“John, John…” she whimpered straight into Hancock’s mouth. “Goddammit, John, he’s going to kill me…”

“Doing my best,” Nick murmured between the thrusts. Aina cried out in overwhelming pleasure, hanging on to Hancock’s shoulders so desperately she felt bits of his skin under her fingernails. He didn’t seem to notice it at all; he only threw Nick a discontented look, and the synth responded by turning on his vibrations again. Aina could swear she was just about to lose her mind and never be the same again.

“Now, love, there, there…” Hancock whispered in her ear again, keeping her head up 'cause she sure as hell wasn't able to. She had by now learned to  _see_  his eyes behind that nearly endless cover of black; he was now looking at Nick’s manhood sliding into her in a mechanical rhythm and he almost mindlessly moved her down onto his own. He was harder and bigger than she remembered, but with joy, like a well-trained slave, she began to worship him.

Nick couldn’t control himself, stop, or even just slow down anymore. He just couldn’t. Not after all those years. Not after over two hundred fucking years. So he clenched his almost human and completely inhuman fingers on her hips, fucking her like there was going to be no tomorrow yet again; and with every thrust he hoped to finally _feel_ again, to feel what he remembered, hoped that somehow he’d be magically fixed and become something more than somebody’s experiment, an artificial parody, an overgrown mechanical doll. That he would  _really_  feel that warmth and that squeezing instead of just reading and analyzing the signals from his electronic receptors. But that hope was never meant to be fulfilled.

And in the end, it also flickered out. All that was left was a shell of former Nick, a synth fully aware of being just a shadow of a past man who really loved and really hated; and who wasn’t just an imperfect, incomplete imitation, and who, god-fucking-dammit,  _felt_.

And when he was sure Aina was cumming, having calculated that not from the pheromones, but the signals from her vagina, from that pressure which he  _remembered_  he shouldn’t have perceived and yet he did, he forced his artificial semen out and… oh,  _fuck_. Suddenly, he felt it. He stiffened as if shocked with an unimaginable electric charge, but there was no pain that he also vaguely remembered, only overwhelming tension.

Suddenly, Jenny’s face flashed before his eyes: her lips parted in a blissful cry, her hair spread across the blue pillow, every smallest detail came back to him so exact like it wasn’t literally two ages ago, and then Nick understood. It still wasn’t it. He had been programmed to somehow unlock those memories he never thought of before. It was as close as he could get, but it still wasn’t  _feeling_. That he’ll never know, just like the taste of fresh air, food, water, the  _true_  smell of sea breeze, flowers in her hair, and  _her_ —it’ll all forever be only in his memories. A cruel joke of his creators.

When he came to, back to his odd, synthetic self, Aina’s hips were just hitting the ground as she pulled her legs up just a little, and all the while Hancock was still penetrating her throat in every way possible. The woman was all but unconscious, but Hancock didn’t seem to be about to reach his climax anytime soon. Nick’s scanners had him almost as warm as the smoldering fire. Aina, though, still slipped him in her mouth with admirable tenacity, over and over and over again. Finally, when Nick was getting dressed, Hancock gave up, detached her from himself and laid her gently on her sleeping bag, even though at least his manhood clearly showed signs of discontentment.

“You didn’t cum,” she said very quietly with very slight reproach. Hancock smiled and kissed her on the forehead, and then twice as hard on the mouth.

“Now, Aina, sweetheart,” he muttered straight in her ear. “You go to sleep, and I’ll stay up with Nick and his vibrator a little longer. I gotta say I’m… fascinated.”

“Go fuck yourself, Hancock.” Nick threw him a glance of a cold-blooded killer.

“I’m trying, my friend, I’m trying.”

 

[Afterword:  
“Nick, are you alright?”  
“Sure, Hancock, I’m just wondering… Is there anything that makes me better than the old Nick?”  
“Man. You  _vibrate_.”  
#neverforget]


End file.
